


your ghost tonight

by snoopypez



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3385310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoopypez/pseuds/snoopypez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It’s been three days.</i>
</p><p>  <i>Three days in the library—nights, actually—doing endless research on the most difficult project ever created by the demons employed by this school.</i></p><p>  <i>(Figurative demons. This isn’t that type of story.)</i></p><p>or: it’s 3 am and I’m still in the library studying for finals and I’m losing my grip on reality and I think I just saw a ghost au</p>
            </blockquote>





	your ghost tonight

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr for national sciles day, then as a chapter in my tumblr-fic...fic. I decided I like it enough to put it on its own.

It’s been three days. 

Three days in the library—nights, actually—doing endless research on the most difficult project ever created by the demons employed by this school.

(Figurative demons. This isn’t that type of story.)

And it’s not fair because Stiles, he is good at this stuff. This should have been done and over with two hours into the first night, but something is just _not clicking._

So he’s here. Again. Tired eyes pouring over texts with the most focus he can manage, which, by this point, is not a lot. His limbs are strewn about as much as possible while sitting at an uncomfortable table in an uncomfortable chair. 

The only reason he’s not in one of the squishy couches in the corner is because two seconds there and he’d be fast asleep.

Since he’s had the entire library to himself, more or less, he doesn’t bother even _trying_ to be quiet. Which is good, because the very second he glances up, yawning, he notices…something. A quick flash of a person moving between shelves, and okay, it’s probably the lack of sleep, but it has Stiles letting out a totally manly yelp and knocking two books off the table.

Nothing happens.

Stiles is as still as he ever gets, definitely focused now as he stares at the spot the person just was. After a few minutes, he’s almost dozed off again, and there’s no sign of life beyond his, so maybe he should just…take a coffee break.

*

The next night. Same time, same place, Batman. 

Stiles is feeling pretty good; he’s had two whole hours of sleep, nothing but coffee all day between meals, and he’s pretty sure he’s found The Book That Will Solve All His Problems. 

He might have forgotten to take into consideration his _completely horrible attention span_ at the best of times. The amount of caffeine running through his system would probably terrify an emergency room staff, and he’s lost four pencils from accidentally flinging them into the darkness.

He’s just lost his fifth and final pencil and is forced to go retrieve them when he spots the same figure from the night before. 

"Hey!"

Well, too late to decide if getting its attention would be a good idea, then. 

Turns out not to be a problem, because he gets completely ignored.

He barely gets any research done, and sees nothing in the shadows, for the rest of the night.

*

This is it. This is the time he will catch whatever or whoever’s been creeping around like a big creeper.

…And this is also the time he’ll finish his research, because he’s only got one day left, but whatever! The library mystery is more important.

(He so needs sleep.)

Everything is spread over his usual table—books and papers and notebooks and ten pencils. Snacks and coffee in a comically large thermos, plus some night-vision goggles he may have liberated from the sheriff’s station and no one can prove a thing.

_He. is. ready._

*

He is asleep.

*

Something is shaking him. Gently, but still. Shaking. Rude.

Stiles blinks his eyes open, still half-asleep. The figure from before is looking down at him, and:

"Are you a ghost?" 

The maybe-ghost raises an eyebrow and gives Stiles a look he’s very familiar with. One that says the wearer is questioning his sanity.

"No judgement, man," Stiles adds, sitting up clumsily, rubbing his eyes. He yawns. "You’re way hotter than I expected, but yeah, so are you?"

"Am I a hot ghost?" 

"Way to make it sound like a stupid question." 

It’s about this time that Stiles realizes the guy still has his hand on Stiles’s shoulder—which is not unwelcome, and also _probably_ means no ghostly activity has been happening. 

"So if you’re not a spirit walking between worlds or something," Stiles asks, waking up more with every minute, "what are you? Uh, who. Who are you."

No more hand on his shoulder, bummer. But the guy slips into the chair next to him, so it evens out.

"Scott. I kinda work the late shift. Or…early shift, I guess."

"Oh. So why’d you ignore me til now?"

Scott tilts his head like a puppy and it’s just as adorable.

"I tried talking to you…yesterday, I think?" He’s been up for like a week at this point; Stiles is a little surprised _he’s_ not a ghost.

"You did? Dude, sorry, I usually work with my ipod, you know? It’s kinda quiet around here," Scott says, looking way too apologetic for this ridiculous conversation. "I have seen you, though. At this same table. Do you ever sleep?"

Stiles snorts a laugh and says, “Uh, you _just_ kinda made sure I don’t, buddy.” It comes out a little harsher than he meant, so before Scott can look even more sorry, Stiles continues. “Which is a good thing! Cause this shit’s due in about thirty hours and I have like…seven pages left. Don’t worry, it’s good. Last minute pressure’s…good. I’m Stiles, by the way, and you’re really hot.”

Scott has a really, really nice smile.

"I kinda. Talk a lot when I’ve only had three hours of sleep in a week," Stiles adds, too exhausted to feel any kind of shame.

"No problem. Hey, so my shift’s over at nine. If you want a break or something, we can get coffee?" 

Stiles nods with enthusiasm, totally ignoring the gigantic thermos sitting six inches away. 

"Promise not to pass out on you, even."

(Though if he does, he hopes he dreams of Scott’s answering grin.)

"Hope not. My bed’s way softer than I am," Scott says, and looks _really proud_ of himself. Stiles responds by lurching forward and kissing him. 

Anyone that sees a chance like the one Stiles gave him, and takes it? Absolutely someone Stiles wants to be around.

And probably under. And over.

And—


End file.
